His
by Someone aka Me
Summary: She belongs to him. SebClary, AU, non-con.


So… this is AU, for… reasons. Namely because I don't have my books with me right now and because my muse felt like it. So there.

Warning: This gets very non-con-y.

For my beautiful Amber for GGE 2014, who requested SebClary from me in exchange for JordanSimon. Because we are us.

.

She is his.

She is his blood, his sister, a _Morgenstern._ She belongs with him, _to_ him.

She is _his_.

The most irksome part of all of this is that she doesn't seem to get it. She doesn't understand. She doesn't get that blood binds them tighter than anything else ever could. Instead she prefers the angel boy, the _weak_ one. She flounces after him, staring as though his words are spun gold.

She doesn't understand. But she will. Oh, Sebastian will make her understand.

.

She sounds so pretty when she screams. High and thin and broken. Her throat is raw, aching. She does not know that this is only the beginning. Angel boy knows, but angel boy is locked tightly in the basement — for now.

His blade slips across her skin, scoring beautiful weeping red lines. After a moment, he leans down and licks across the stripe he's just carved. She shudders, trying to pull away. She has bitten through her lip.

Eventually, he grows bored of it all. He tosses the blade away and watches as she goes silent, muscles twitching, eyes wary.

He takes a fistful of her shirt, heaves her up toward him.

He kisses her. She goes limp. Her lips taste of coppery blood.

She tells him she hates him, and Sebastian smiles.

.

Angel boy Jace doesn't scream when Sebastian's knife makes new Marks in his skin. Of course he doesn't. Sebastian had expected that, because pretty angel boy Jace fancies himself brave and strong and stoic.

But she screams. Oh, she screams herself hoarse as Sebastian carves his pretty skin. At one point, he hears a snap, and he thinks she's broken her wrist, tugging against the chains that keep her in place. She screams and screams and screams and it's so beautiful. Her screams morph into sobs until eventually she says, her voice thick and rough and broken, "Why are you doing this?"

He turns to her and he smiles. "Because, Clarissa, you are mine, and you _will_ understand that."

.

When he frees her from her chains, she runs to angel boy, looking as though she wants to throw her arms around him but knows that would hurt him. "Jace," she sobs. "Jace, are you okay?"  
What an inane question, Sebastian thinks. Of course he isn't. He's just been carved like a turkey. Who exactly is okay after that? He really expected more from a Morgenstern, but then, she was raised by her mother.

"I'm okay," angel boy whispers and Sebastian scoffs at the obvious lie. Neither of them notices.

She touches his cheek, her fingers soft and gentle. "I'm so sorry," she says, so patently predictable, so _boring_. Sebastian will cure her of that, eventually.

"Don't apologize," says angel boy, just as patently predictable and boring. Sebastian won't bother to cure him of that. He cannot believe his father could raise such a child, such a weakling. He is worth nothing at all to Sebastian, nothing beyond what he means to Clarissa, and Sebastian doesn't intend for that to be a factor for much longer. He will die, because he is weak, and he is in the way, and that is the way of things. Obstacles are for getting rid of.

But not just yet. For now, he is useful.

.

Clarissa, Sebastian finds, can be bartered with. If she kisses him, he'll leave angel boy alone for a bit. He starts out trading a kiss for a few hours. He tastes her tears. She feels she is betraying him, angel boy, by kissing Sebastian. She fancies herself in love. She still doesn't understand that she is his.

The next time, the kiss earns a few hours less. Then less and less and less, until angel boy is only safe as long as she keeps kissing him.

He pushes her up against the wall, one hand in her hair, forcing her head up as it grips the roots. His other hand is underneath her shirt. He bites her lip and the wound reopens. The kiss tastes of blood and tears. He presses closer and closer until there is no space between them. Sebastian is not stopping. Clarissa is not stopping him.

.

Angel boy doesn't look so much like an angel with his neck at that angle, snapped as it is. All he looks is dead. Which, Sebastian supposes, is fitting.

Clarissa cries. Of course she does. Boring. Predictable. She rages, slaps him, claws at him. He takes away her shirt. Pins her to a wall, her back to him. He traces the falling star scarred into her back with his fingers. She is a Morgenstern, a morning star. She will always be, no matter how much she tries to deny it.

She will always, always be his.


End file.
